


Two Foxes and a Rabbit

by Sugar_and_Salt



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Experiments, M/M, Mild Gore, Violence, hostages, mild dubcon, non-con substance abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-09-27 06:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20403379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_Salt/pseuds/Sugar_and_Salt
Summary: Humans might be described as the parasite Yixing's kind was so close to getting rid off. Personally, he didn't harbor negative feelings towards them... not until they took away his other half.





	Two Foxes and a Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written for the Xingdae Fic Fest (Round 1) organized by Xingdae Café.  
[Prompt #51]
> 
> hello to my prompter!!  
thanks for submitting such a wild prompt, it stood out to me immediately, and I hope I did it justice.
> 
> thanks to the mod and thanks to my beta who shall stay anon til reveals <3

Yixing closed the door to his office. The polished, sterile knob was cool under his itchy fingers. His fingers felt a little swollen despite looking perfectly normal. A very common complaint for people of his class. Despite the itchy sensation, he forced his hands to stay open as he walked down the corridor. This wasn't about masking his agitation. Tightly curled fists were useless when it came down to it, and it would come down to it.

He didn't meet anyone's eyes, walking straight ahead, not allowing anyone to question his actions.

There was nothing but a faint, unsettling white noise filling his head, grainy and bloodred, but the fluttering sensation in his stomach kept him going, pushed him forwards.

No one questioned him when he left the facility to enter the abandoned, human-made tunnels formerly used for transportation. If they had properly re-checked with the higher-ups, they would have known that nobody had requested Yixing's presence. Not this time. The sight was too small, the number of humans too little to even bother with an onsite medic.

Unlike the man-made, primitive vehicles, their transporter was gliding smoothly over the metal tracks. Soothing, turquoise light shone down on Yixing, casting pale shadows along the creases of fabric where he methodically rolled up his sleeves. The light was supposed to calm people of his class, and in a way, it worked. His skin was starting to feel numb, perfectly suiting the emptiness in his head.

The air inside the tunnels was stale, and as soon as Yixing stepped out of the transporter, the light switched back to a pale blue to accommodate the majority of soldiers.

The gravel crunched under his soles, sounding oddly satisfying. He wanted more of it.

More of the chafing, creaking, wincing.

The white noise inside his head had risen in temperature and restlessness. Where there had been cold, cold shock, there was now this heavy, unsettled mass, this upset ocean, this momentum pressing down on his head and winding around his organs.

Even still, or maybe because of that, Yixing stayed perfectly calm as he pushed himself past the soldiers, not even bothering with the questions thrown after him.

He walked up the stairs one at a time, until pale, ugly sunlight hit him, starting from the crown of his head. Dawn, just like dusk, was a hideous time with the pure sunlight being tainted into a garish orange, manipulated to make the sky bleed again and again. Apparently, humans loved these times of the day. It certainly suited them. They, too, had made innocent lives bleed continuously, with no remorse or reason. They weren't made to live under the clear, blue sky. They'd rather die under a dramatic sea of blood.

A wish Yixing's kind granted them.

It was the planet's wish, too, so that aligned nicely.

Just like the others, Yixing had tried to believe in change, in development and evolution. In a world of cooperation and communication. As the colonies of lights went out one by one, so did Yixing's empathy and faith.

Now, with the planet humming pleasantly under their fingertips, purring like a gaunt, stray cat bargaining for shelter, humans were nothing but the memory of a plague to most people.

A plague that had taken someone from Yixing.

The only person that mattered.

He slinked past the soldiers guarding the scene, with no one paying much attention until he ripped a gun out of one of their hands, carelessly entering the stand-off with his eyes trained on the group of human soldiers that started to panic.

Unlike human weapons, theirs were much more silent, but the screams made up for it as Yixing shot every single person but one without hesitation. He shoved one of his men aside, pushing past and ignoring the bullets flying his way, two of them boring into his leg and side. It didn't matter. The pain was minimal, and even if it would hurt, it wouldn't matter. The fact that he was acting against orders didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Nothing but Jongdae.

After hitting the remaining soldier's leg, he had difficulties crawling away from Yixing like the puny, fragile vermin it was, and Yixing felt a spike of hot satisfaction run down his spine when his bones audibly cracked under his feet.

He didn't kill him though. Dead people didn't talk, but humans with weapons pushed to under the chin usually did.

"Where did you take him?"

He knew what Yixing was referring to, but didn't know the answer to his question. That was alright. Yixing ended his suffering and turned towards the rubble where he knew more humans were hiding, he could hear them. Maybe they knew more.

And even if getting his soulmate back meant that he had to personally end this plague called humanity with his own two hands, he would.

He would.

* * *

Jongdae woke up to white light shining on his face.

He was alive.

He hadn't expected to wake up alive after losing consciousness in the middle of a battle.

Blinking away the haze was hard. The way the light flickered suggested that he was still among humans, whose poor eyes didn't pick up on subtleties like these.

There were voices, far and grainy as people around him communicated through headsets and helmets. As if that would keep Jongdae from listening in on them.

His limbs were bound to the table with heavy steel chains.

All this information dimly trickled in, dripping into the vast, hot anger that was curling deep in his stomach.

Yixing had found out, and he was seething.

In all their years of being one, Jongdae had never felt him this angry, and while he appreciated it, he wished the other would share a more comforting emotion with him right now. Something akin to the liquid, pleasant warmth he felt when they were resting, holding on to each other. Or maybe the indescribable glow of happiness that always grew as they slept next to each other, never losing skin contact as their dreams followed suit, evening out, making it easy to rest and recover and be at peace.

Jongdae felt none of that as he faintly watched a human step forward, prying his clothing away until cold, polluted air fanned over his bare stomach and chest.

He only felt the spicy, hot anger curling in his stomach, squeezing past his own emotions as alcohol was smeared over his skin.

Maybe it was the fact that Yixing was already so angry that the contrast to Jongdae's own emotions was so painfully noticeable.

When a third instrument joined the two blades cutting him open, Jongdae felt the first tinge of it.

* * *

Nervous.

Jongdae was nervous. Anxious even.

Jongdae was never nervous, not like that.

Unconsciously, Yixing crossed his arms, pressing them closer against his body, down on the fluttery, unpleasant feeling in his stomach.

As a frontline soldier of the exploration unit, Jongdae was used to dealing with tense situations, and Yixing knew very well what it felt like when his other half stood under stress, acting under pressure. This was different though. This tingling, the tug, this vague nausea... he'd only felt once.

One single time.

When Jongdae had been tipped off balance, ripped away from his own conscious, losing a fight against chemicals in his blood, confused, anxious, and then the feeling had subsided as Jongdae had reportedly lost consciousness.

Thinking back to it made him feel even more sick, and while Yixing stared among the crew searching the monitors and analyzing scans, he couldn't stop asking himself what they were doing to Jongdae.

Humans had yet to find out about their secret, so they shouldn't be able to kill him. They shouldn't be.

Then again, none of the kidnapped soldiers had ever been retrieved.

Maybe there _ was _a way to end them, one that Yixing's kind wasn't aware of yet.

He had to hurry and find Jongdae.

Only seconds after that, his stomach lurched. 

And as Jongdae was cut open, Yixing threw up.

* * *

Jongdae awoke to flickery, dim lighting coming from a far away ceiling.

He was alive.

A part of him was strangely relieved about that.

Humans weren't able to kill him, he knew that. Yet a small part of him hadn't expected waking up again.

It was strange, being relieved over being alive.

Instinctively, he reached down and beneath the fabric of his flimsy shirt, to run his hands over his stomach. Stitches. Sloppy, ugly, possibly dirty stitches.

Jongdae tugged the shirt back down and took a deep breath, willing down the rising bile.

He would be fine. He wouldn't die.

It didn't matter what they had done, what they had touched and cut and tempered with - his organs would recover, even reproduce if it came down to it.

Jongdae had never meant to test that knowledge, but the fact remained that he would be alright.

The light kept flickering rapidly, and Jongdae already felt an upcoming headache. With a suppressed groan, he turned to the side, taking in the small, windowless room with the curiously high ceiling. It was at least twice as high as humans tended to grow, and made of primitive bricks. The door looked newer than the rest of the cell and was obviously made of steel, with a small slit that was covered from the outside.

He'd probably not be able to get out by sheer force, especially not with how _ tired _he felt.

Jongdae swallowed dryly.

The air was stale, but strangely sweet.

He felt like a fish lying on dry land, waiting to dry out and die under the poor, pale lamp above him.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted to see Yixing.

He had to be sleeping right now, going by the muted prickling vibrating through him. At this point, it was a sensation as natural as breathing, so it was hard to even pick up on it, to gather comfort from it, but Jongdae closed his eyes and tried, anyway.

Why was he feeling so woozy? Had they- had they put anything inside him?

He tried to fight the upcoming sickness and simply kept breathing, shallow and short, thinking of Yixing. Of the way, he'd ran his hands through Jongdae's hair the last time he woke up at home. The way it felt to press into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, feeling the tingling grow into this pleasant, stimulating kind of purr that emanated nothing but bliss-

A resounding click broke the silence and Jongdae's eyes snapped open.

As the door opened and someone stumbled inside, he forced himself to sit up and pretend that he didn't feel like passing out, that the stitches weren't pulling at his skin from the movement.

The door was closed again, but the newcomer didn't move. Just for a second, Jongdae hesitated, because while looking ruffled, the person standing by the door was almost too pretty to be human. Youthful, largely unblemished features, pale skin, and inky black hair.

What gave him away was the fear in his eyes.

He wasn't making any sound, wasn't even looking particularly wide-eyed, but the way he kept his back pressed to the door, shoulders drawn up and tension radiating off of him spoke of fear.

A human.

One that did not want to be in this room.

"What do you want?" Jongdae croaked, trying to sound menacing, despite not feeling like himself at all. He was probably still capable of ending this puny-looking young male with his bare hands, and by the looks of it, the other wasn't doubting him.

He parted his lips but nothing came out, and instead, he pulled something out from behind his back, flinching hard when Jongdae twitched away in defense.

It was just a bottle of water though.

He could see the panic in the human's naturally wide, slanted, pretty eyes, but the other sank to his knees, anyway, inching closer until he could offer him the water bottle.

He looked like a scared rabbit facing a fox.

A wounded fox, Jongdae thought bitterly.

Who would still be able to tear his head off if he wanted to.

He could. He should.

Every human corpse was a step closer to cleansing the planet.

Still, whatever sick kind of tribute this was, he didn't want to play along. He had no idea what was expected of him though.

The human's fingers were mildly shaking around the bottle, his eyes downcast and shining with unshed tears.

Jongdae made a decision.

* * *

Nothing.

The sun had risen and fallen four times already and there was still no trace of the human secret base yet.

Nothing was what Yixing was feeling, too. Nothing but the faintest prickling. These days, it always felt like Jongdae was asleep. Until he was in immense pain, that is. After that, he went right back to being asleep.

It worried Yixing, made it hard to think clearly, rationally, to not just grab a human gun and search the woods on his own, giving every human stumbling in front of his barrel a painful end.

What were they doing to him?

During the past few days, Yixing had felt colors of pain and discomfort he had never experienced before, and his mind couldn't help wandering to places that made him see white, blinding him with rage.

How dare they. Jongdae, of all people.

Jongdae, who was at the front lines, exploring the planet and treating any living being with respect even when bullets were their answer. Jongdae, who had never been cruel, had never enjoyed ending lives, never volunteered to do it, always preferring to avoid confrontations. That was their way of thanking him? How dare they?

Yixing buried his face in his hands, silently allowing the tears to roll down while everyone around him kept talking, kept searching.

Jongdae wasn't weak though, and he wasn't dumb. He would survive.

Right?

_ Please_, Yixing thought, shoulders shaking as hot tears dripped onto the table, obscuring letters and numbers.

_ Please hang in there, Jongdae. _

* * *

When Jongdae woke up, Minseok was there, sitting in the furthest corner of the tiny cell.

He was around a lot. Jongdae had lost track of time the moment he'd fallen asleep, but he appeared to show up at regular times, only leaving when someone let him out.

He never did anything, keeping his replies curt, keeping his head down. Never speaking first, always sitting as far away as possible.

And Jongdae had no idea what they were trying to achieve by that.

Were they trying to normalize humans to him? Was it a ploy to make him get attached and voluntarily spill sensitive information?

Whatever it was, the human sitting across him with his legs drawn up, dull gaze trained on the ground... he hadn't chosen to be there.

That day, he was sporting a dark bruise that only barely peeked out from under his sleeve.

The past days, Jongdae had been thinking.

It was apparent that while humans didn't know a way to kill them, they knew how to take him out, and whatever chemical they were using, they were layering it on thickly, letting it permeate the air at all times, rendering Jongdae helpless. Like this, forcing his way out of this situation was impossible. There had to be another way and one of the two variables in this equation currently sat across him, trying not to fall asleep in his presence.

"Does the air affect you, too?" Jongdae asked raspily, clearing his throat. As a member of the exploration unit, the human language was already burnt into his brain, but he felt like most complex terms were already leaving him, disintegrating in the chemical haze.

Minseok tensed a little, shooting him a glance before keeping his eyes on the ground again.

He used to flinch, to press himself into the wall when Jongdae as much as looked his way, but Jongdae hadn't attacked him so far. Even humans were a little adaptable.

Minseok shook his head.

"It doesn't," he then added. "I'm just tired. Sorry."

Jongdae blinked away the drowsiness as best as he could, crawling closer to him, slowly diminishing the distance.

"Why do you apologize?"

Minseok was holding his breath, he could see it, but the other stayed put regardless.

"I didn't mean to be rude," he said quietly, voice purposefully even, enunciation clear.

"I didn't tell you my name," Jongdae said, changing directions entirely as he imploringly stared at the other's downcast eyes, waiting for them to find the courage and meet his. He'd asked for Minseok's name because humans valued names, but he hadn't felt like returning the information. Now he did, but he waited until the human looked up at him.

"Jongdae," he said, slowly, pronouncing the syllables in a way a human tongue would be able to follow. He saw the other mimic him soundlessly, lips moving to form the words.

"Jongdae," he repeated patiently, and the human swallowed.

"Jong... dae," he said very quietly.

"That's right," Jongdae said almost placatingly. It was so much easier to understand Minseok up close, to interpret the nuances of his posture and appearance. He really was pretty, but in a fragile, sad kind of way. The clothing proper, but the skin beneath bruised, the eyes pretty, but dull, and his body had obviously seen better days in terms of sustenance.

Slowly, carefully even, Jongdae reached out, cupping the side of his face. His skin was cold and slightly sticky to the touch, feeling sickish like the rest of him.

"Why are you here? You're already broken."

Minseok's eyes widened at the touch, but as predicted, he stayed put.

"Do they _ want _me to eat you?"

Minseok didn't answer immediately, flinching when Jongdae gently rubbed his thumb into the other's skin encouragingly.

"They don't care what you do to me," he finally whispered, and Jongdae hummed, dropping his voice even further.

"And are they listening? Watching?"

The tense human looked him into the eyes for a long time, no doubt weighing his options of survival. He wasn't dumb, either, Jongdae could see that much in the way he refused to relax under his fingertips.

"They are," he finally whispered.

Jongdae hummed, rewarding him by breaking the touch.

Minseok exhaled shakily, expression unreadable, eyes shining with unshed tears as the pressure was slowly starting to settle in, pushing other hormones aside.

Before Jongdae could decide on what to do with him, the door of his cell was opened, and they were both dragged out, separated immediately as Jongdae was led down a hallway and strapped back to the white, faintly dirty hospital bed.

They didn't try to cut him open again, instead resorting to countless injections, most of them useless, some prickling, others numbing or even painful.

Being forced to cry in front of strangers was humiliating, but Jongdae was too focused to keep his inner balance to care for his appearance.

_ Stay calm, _ he told himself.

_ Don't make Yixing worry. _

_ Don't- _

* * *

When the prickly sensation started, Yixing was prepared. They were still searching and there was nothing he could do to help, so he focused on what he could do, what might be even more difficult than finding the human base - staying calm while Jongdae was hurting.

He lay down in his room, taking a calming pill, trying to suppress the upcoming panic, the fear, the anger, the desperation. They didn't cut him open this time, that much he could tell. He felt nothing but pricks, followed by pain coming from inside. Later, when the pain stopped and Jongdae would go back to sleep, Yixing would realize that what he'd been feeling were injections. Now, however, there was simply no way to think clearly.

Lying there, knowing your soulmate is hurting, is possibly dying right this moment while he was being utterly helpless was the most torturous thing he'd ever experienced. But he _ was _able to reach out to him. Not with words, but with the way he treated his own body and mind. The least he could do was send him some serenity, a breath of comfort, the ghost of a hug.

Another wave of faint pain rippled through his insides and Yixing blindly grabbed another pill off the table.

* * *

"Am I the first? The first you're staying with?"

His grasp on the human language was leaving him again, blurring away under his sluggish tongue.

Minseok shook his head. He was sitting closer now, still keeping a respectable distance, still not relaxing fully.

Slowly, Jongdae sat up, pressed against the wall for balance.

"What happened to the others?"

Dark eyes flit to the ground.

"Ah," Jongdae said, making an effort to sound neutral despite feeling sick at the thought.

They already knew how to kill them. They just kept him alive for further experiments.

How much longer would they bother with him?

"They cut them," Minseok began quietly, probably barely audible over the microphones fixed to the ceilings, before dropping to a whisper.

"They cut them to pieces. Until they stopped."

Stopped breathing, stopped living.

Of course. Even they couldn't reform and stay conscious to an endless extent.

Minseok kept glancing at him, evaluating his response. In other circumstances, Jongdae would have probably been more horrified, would have gained new vigor to get up and claw his way out - but he'd been drugged for days now, and it wouldn't be productive to kill his only source of information, his only chance to get out.

"But that's not something they can do on the battlefield," Minseok added quietly, figuring Jongdae wasn't about to attack him. The concrete chafed against his back as Jongdae kept slumping down, needing his entire mental capacity to think.

Of course. They were looking for other ways to kill his kind.

To kill him.

He'd listened carefully to what the humans around him talked about while injecting him with poison, so this didn't come as a huge surprise.

For an entire minute, everything blurred together further and further, the stress, the conflict, the nervous stirring Yixing felt somewhere, the seemingly hopeless situation... all of it blended together into a gentle, homogeneous, fuzzy feeling, tempting Jongdae to simply lie down and rest, to think about it another time.

But laying down meant no guarantee to ever wake up again, so Jongdae persisted.

And made another decision.

"Are you a prostitute?"

The question came out calm, but clear, and he carefully watched the way Minseok tensed up again, shooting him a mere look loaded with emotions going by too fast for him to interpret. Then he lowered his head.

"No," he lied.

Was it a lie? Jongdae felt like it was a lie. But it didn't matter.

He forced himself up again, stumbling over to Minseok. He lost his balance, bare hand scraping along the stone in an ugly fashion, nails ripping and fingers bleeding, but Jongdae barely even felt it. He only saw the way Minseok's hands twitched out to soften his fall - was it pure self-defense? Was it?

He let go of Jongdae almost immediately, gaze unsurely flitting between Jongdae's two eyes, seeking for a sign that he might have crossed a line.

"Am I the first who talked to you?" Jongdae only asked, slightly slurry. Like this, he had him crowded into the corner, his back to the room, shielding him from the cameras. Their knees were touching and he could hear the human's breathing grow more shallow.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Did the others hurt you?" Jongdae asked, his clean, unblemished hand already traveling up the other's arm to rest in the crook of his neck where he felt the other's pulse rabbiting beneath his fingers.

"Yes," Minseok whispered again, rigid and clearly afraid, despite his seemingly blank expression.

"That's why you're so scared," Jongdae hummed quietly, inching closer just a bit, testing the other's reaction. "Don't be. I will not hurt you."

Minseok remained very still as Jongdae leaned in even closer, just letting it happen. Even drugged, he was pretty sure he could still kill a human with his bare hands, so it was probably sheer luck that Minseok had survived his previous cellmates.

Despite all that, Minseok stayed still. Jongdae thought that for a broken human, he was still pretty strong. And beautiful.

"Am I the first to do this?" he whispered against Minseok's lips.

With his own lips just slightly parted, Minseok nodded, a faint, jerky motion of his head. He was holding his breath, too, and Jongdae closed his eyes. For a moment, he felt unreasonably calm, feeling the entirety of his situation in a strangely detached way. There was a confined, cold room, the burning in his hand and the human whose thighs were resting on either of his sides now, warm and twitching. His eyes fluttered open, hand already reaching up when their lips brushed, quick, fleeting. Beautiful.  
Immediately, he felt a rush of satisfaction roll down his spine. It had been too long since someone had shared affection with him, and despite Minseok being a human, despite him not sharing it voluntarily, despite him not being Yixing, his body reacted.

Minseok didn't have much of a choice, really, but the careful way their lips kept touching, the close proximity and strangely gentle intimacy seemed to loosen something in him.

"Show me," Jongdae whispered against his lips. "Show me how humans do it."

Minseok's breath hitched, but after a beat of hesitation, he complied, tilting his head, applying a bit more pressure.

Jongdae sighed in satisfaction, and without breaking the kiss, he began to open his pants.

* * *

Yixing washed the blood off his hands with lukewarm water. Usually, turning the water cold had him shivering but this time, he barely felt a thing, dully watching the rust-colored rivulets disappearing in the drain.

Zitao had taken him aside to talk earlier, saying something about how he'd become way too trigger happy recently. How he didn't use to end lives as easily as he did these days.

Yixing had shrugged him off and left first.

It really didn't matter. The humans they faced were soldiers, and those would be dying facing them, anyway. It didn't matter _ who _pulled the trigger.

Something pulsed through him, liquid and warm, prickly and pleasant.

Yixing paused, thinking he must have imagined it.

It kept swelling though, moving through his body like a pleasant shiver.

A weak, but very familiar kind of shiver.

That's what it felt like when Jongdae was intimate with him.

Yixing kept staring into the sink, the running water forgotten.

It stayed, spreading like powder, dusting his senses, and suddenly, Yixing felt sick.

Why?

What were they doing to him? They couldn't be forcing this upon him or else it wouldn't feel this good.

Yixing kept staring into the white porcelain of the human-made sink, taking in the little specks of dirt gathering in the ridges around the tab, his mind wiped blank except for one big question.

Why?

He'd never felt this before, not without Jongdae around. There was no such thing as pleasuring yourself among them, and Jongdae had always vowed how he hardly sees a need for that, with Yixing around.

Still, it could be just that.

It was an option.

So why did Yixing feel so sick all of a sudden?

Why did he doubt Jongdae?

Why was he so far away? Yixing wanted to see him, talk to him, touch him, pull him close-

Another wave of pleasure vibrated through him.

Yixing sank to the ground and started crying.

* * *

"They wanted to know what it felt like."

Minseok's voice was quiet, the words murmured against Jongdae's lips, too quiet to be picked up by anyone but him.

Jondgdae hummed thoughtfully, hiking up the other's legs until they were wrapped around his waist. If Minseok was bothered by the vulnerable position, legs spread and back pressed against the wall, he didn't show it.

"And what did you tell them?" Jongdae asked, close enough to see the other's eyes glaze over just a little. Giving way just a tiny, tiny bit.

Minseok leaned in until his lips brushed Jongdae's ear, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Wet."

Jongdae could feel the strain in his thighs that came from this position, and he placed the other's hands on his shoulders.

"That's all you said?" he asked lowly, dragging his lips along the side of his throat, feeling him shiver. "You can do better, can't you?"

He took one of Minseok's hands and placed it on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact.

He could see the other's pupils widen only a tiny bit, could hear the slightly shallow breath as he hesitated, but ultimately moved, sliding it up higher, brushing over his groin and reaching for the hem of his pants.

Jongdae lifted his fingers to his mouth when a light touch stopped him.

"They gave me something," Minseok whispered, reaching into the back pocket of his pants, very carefully pulling something out to offer a small, metallic blue wrapper to Jongdae.

He felt his brows twitch in surprise, but that was all the reaction he allowed himself to show. He'd expected them to support this development. To gather data. Through Minseok. They'd apparently attempted to scrape it out of him last time, but for obvious reasons, this would be more effective.

He watched Minseok's face carefully as took the wrapping from his hands, but his expression stayed perfectly blank.  
Even when the pads of Jongdae's finger traced out the line of already ripped plastic.

The next day, Jongdae was dragged out for an examination. He was fearing for the worst, but nobody attempted to touch him.

It turned out that he had not been prepared for the worst though.

Because that day, they injected him human drugs.

And everything went down the drain.

* * *

Yixing took a deep breath, trying to ignore the vague feeling of pleasure lingering on his mind, focusing on something else entirely.

"Over here?" Luhan asked, running his finger over the map. Yixing squinted, but it seemed about right. He nodded, before going back to focusing on the sensations Jongdae was feeling.

Zitao insisted on him lying down, talking about him looking pale, but Yixing brushed him aside, as he had been doing it a lot in the past days.

Almost there. Jongdae had reached out and Yixing heard him.  
They were so close to retrieving him.

So close.

They had just landed in the desert, surrounded by frantic, aggressive humans, when the world dissolved in colors, slinking away from around him. Yixing's breath got stuck in his throat as he was hit by something the Jongdae he knew had never felt before.

Fear.

Cold, piercing, metallic fear that was sinking in, becoming part of the noise, the foreign feeling on his skin as the world slipped his grasp.

There was something in his hand, but it couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel the gun, but it was there. It was right there, and pulling the trigger made a numb sound, made red splatter across the living kaleidoscope around him. So he'd be fine.

He'd be just fine.

* * *

  
  
Jongdae was breathing, sucking in heaps and heaps of cool, liquid gel. Air shouldn't taste like that.

He couldn't think, couldn't get a hold of the ground despite his cheek being mashed into the dirt and he was scared.

Scared, he was so scared.

He didn't have anything under control, not his limbs, not his eyes nor ears. Jongdae was just helplessly existing, lying or maybe sitting, forced to let the world press down on him, scratch over his bruised thighs and lick over his exposed skin, burning and scraping and pushing and _ hurting_.

He was hurting from inside as something tried to pull his lung out through his mouth, as everything felt foreign and wrong, as the thing they'd put inside him came alive, moving, and he couldn't feel Yixing anymore-

_ Don't die.  
_Someone was telling him not to die.

Someone... something was moving towards him, but it stopped.

Jongdae wanted the thing, the person, Yixing to be with him.

He held out his hand, crying pathetically, crying like a child because he was just so relieved to have Yixing back with him. To have him lace their fingers, calming the distorted sensation with his touch, to have him wipe his tears.

He tried to call for him, to tell him that he missed him.

_ I want to go home_, he slurred out.

Let's go home.

* * *

It echoed through him, far away and yet crystal clear.

_ Let's go home. _

Yixing couldn't help smiling to himself, couldn't help the small chuckle escaping him.

No one had ever heard their soulmate’s voice so clearly. It must be a sign.

Of course it was - who, if not them, would share a bond so strong it defied all logic?

Yixing pulled his rifle free, haphazardly cleaning it on the bloody uniform.

_ Yes, Jongdae_, he thought, hoping dearly the other would hear him.

_ Let's go home. _

* * *

When the sirens went off, Jongdae sat up with a start, ripped out of his sleep. Next to him, Minseok twitched away, but he, too, was looking around the cell in alarm.

"What happened?" Jongdae croaked out, holding his head when his body swayed belatedly, taking note of the remaining poison lingering in his blood.

"I don't know," Minseok muttered, jumping to his feet and trying to open the door, to no avail.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly, finally losing his composure. "Let us out," he demanded, banging against the door, the sound drowning in the wailing siren, "Hey! Let us out-"

That's when the first gunshot resounded in the distance, and Minseok let go of the door as if he'd been burnt. Another shot, and he was taking a step away from the door. He looked around like a trapped animal, looking for a place to hide, for the way out he knew didn't exist.

Jongdae swallowed dryly and crawled into the corner next to the door, gesturing Minseok to follow. The other complied, probably because he couldn't think of any other way out, pressing himself into the corner with Jongdae crouching before him, one arm blocking him from view. The sounds and screams seemed to grow closer, but then distanced themselves again.

Behind him, Minseok was breathing shallowly, and Jongdae wished he had a weapon on him. At this point, there were so many chemicals running through his blood that he wasn't sure whether he was in the condition to fight off multiple humans with his bare hands.

Suddenly, the siren stopped and there was silence.

Perfect silence.

"They locked the door," Minseok whispered. "They left us here to die-"

Jongdae raised a hand to his lips, listening closely. There was a faint sound, too small to identify, and then another gunshot pierced the air, startling them both.

Another one hit the door, and then another one.

Jongdae felt Minseok bury his face in his neck, a last, feeble attempt to feel someone's skin against his-

When the door was pushed open to reveal Yixing.

Relief.

A strong wave of relief and a smile were Jongdae's first reaction, and he jumped to his feet and into the other's arms which tightened around him immediately.

"You found me," he breathed into the sweaty, sticky skin. "You found me. Thank you-"

Yixing was breathing heavily, reeking of blood and death, but it was definitely him, and Jongdae was so relieved he wanted to cry.

"Of course I found you," Yixing hummed into his hair, his free hand restlessly wandering up and down Jongdae's back as if to confirm he was real.

When he drew back in order to give him a kiss, Jongdae noticed it - the slightly vacant look, the way his gaze flickered over to the corner Minseok sat in, but he was already lifting his gun-

A shot resounded and Minseok gasped.

"Stop, Yixing-" Jongdae began, hand on the barrel and trying to hold it down.

Yixing struggled against his grip, looking confused and unhappy.

"Why? Let's just end this and go home already - didn't you want to go home?" Yixing asked, genuinely not comprehending, mirroring Jongdae's feelings.

"Yixing, what happened? You didn't use to like killing living beings-" he pressed out, using both hands to wrestle the gun out of his hand, but Yixing was in better shape than him, fueled by adrenaline, and with one rough shove, Jongdae stumbled back and the gun was pointed at Minseok again.

"Do not shoot!" Jongdae yelled, curt but final.

It was enough to make Yixing pause, enough to shoot him a betrayed look.

"Why, because he kept you satisfied when I couldn't?" he asked, so scaldingly bitter that Jongdae couldn't help flinching.

"What?"

"It's true - he touched you, didn't he?" Yixing asked, eyeing Minseok, who was still sitting in the corner, his back pressed to the wall, facing death.

"I was the one touching him," Jongdae corrected, and there was something dark flickering over Yixing's expression, a tick of annoyance, and this time, Jongdae moved in front of the gun just in time for the other not to shoot.

"Yixing, please. Calm down," he tried, mind racing as he tried to get a grasp on the situation. "He's human, but he's just prey. Like I was."

"He's manipulated you-" Yixing began, but Jongdae only shook his head.

"They never treated him as one of them. He was just worthless prey for them to use."

He took a deep breath, standing his ground.

"And I used him, too. Don't shoot him."

This seemed to get through to Yixing, and he slowly lowered his gun.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a sliver of hope showing in his eyes. The sight almost broke Jongdae.

"Who do you think covered for me while I was carving into my skin? Who played along?"

Yixing touched his left thigh, right above the spot where Jongdae had scratched open his own skin, forming symbols giving away his location.

"It was hard to recognize the first time around, right?" Jongdae continued, tense and desperate for Yixing to _ understand_. "That's because I had nothing but my own nails to work with - who do you think brought me a blade?"

Yixing tilted his head in confusion, eyes flitting down, towards the human Jongdae was mostly blocking from his side.

"Why would he do that?"

"They sent him to get _ bred _by me, Yixing," Jongdae insisted, slow and urgent. "They wanted results and disobedience is clearly punished by death. I could have strangled him any day and they might not have stepped in either noting it down as part of the study. To him, it was either appeasing to them or appeasing to me."

He looked Yixing in the eye, taking a step towards him until he could tentatively touch the other's arms.

"He's prey," he repeated. Slow and clear. "And we do not kill prey for fun, do we?"

For the longest time, Yixing held his gaze. His eyes looked different than Jongdae remembered them. A little clouded. Sad. Broken. It wasn't entirely unlike the things he saw in the human's eyes, and maybe that feeling translated to Yixing, who finally let go.

The bloody weapon met the ground with a resounding thud and Jongdae had his soulmate back.

He pulled him into a firm hug, and this time, both of Yixing's hands were on his back, holding him close.

"I'm sorry," Yixing whispered between the light, almost frantic kisses peppered across Jongdae's neck.

"Don't be," Jongdae muttered, closing his eyes.

"I missed you so _ much_-"

"I missed you, too."

For the longest time, they stood there with Jongdae running his hands through Yixing's hair as the other pressed close almost desperately, not minding the blood he was all but soaked in.

Faint noise in the distance suggested that their people were getting closer, probably wanting to investigate the place.

Jongdae drew away first.

"Let's go home?" he asked gently, and Yixing nodded.

"Yes."

Jongdae turned towards the curled up figure on the floor. After a second of hesitation, Minseok met his eyes, looking unsure and tense still.

"Do you want to come with us?" he asked calmly, smoothing over Yixing's hurt gaze by interlacing their fingers.

Minseok only stared at him in confused wariness.

In a way, Minseok resembled a fox as well, Jongdae thought.

"You can stay here, too," he offered, squeezing Yixing's fingers. "I'll vow for you. I'm afraid there's no one left alive but it can't be long until you find fellow humans again."

Disdain flickered over Minseok's expression, short but deep. Then he looked at Yixing, clearly weighing his options.

In a way, it was sad that he had such little options. Stay and hide from his own kind or potentially ending up their slave again... or follow the alien race known to slaughter humans.

When Jongdae offered his hand, he took it, and Yixing sighed.

"You're too kind Jongdae," he breathed out, shooting wary looks towards the human.

"I got it all from you," Jongdae only hummed.

Yixing made it until they had left the facility before he sobbed quietly, barely audibly.

Jongdae squeezed his bloodstained fingers in comfort.

They'd be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> \- did you know that disposable scalpel blades are pretty damn tiny?  
\- anyway, i don't know if it was obvious or not, but jongdae did not sleep with minseok (which was why they weren't able to find any traces of release on him)  
\- this isn't intended to be polyamorous, but if you'd like to think of it that way, feel free
> 
> and lastly  
who do you think is the rabbit?


End file.
